I Can Live With That
by Kami-Inu
Summary: He was stuck with a giddy oddball, and if he didn't wind up breaking contract he'd most likely be driven mad. Or maybe, just maybe...he'd learn a few things? Whether or not he wanted to was another matter altogether. Some humor, mild GrimmHime.
1. Catfish

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Bleach'. All rights belong to Tite Kubo. I only own this fanfiction, and any OCs that may appear. Thank you.**

**I Can Live With That**

How the hell had he wound up in this predicament?

It was a slow Wedesday evening. The town was settling down: the sun had just set, the birds were silent, resting in the treetops, and people were crowding the streets, either enjoying a stop or two before heading home, or trying to make their way through the traffic.

In other words, it was a night just begging to be turned upside down. The setting was in need of some well-delivered chaos.

But somehow, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques found himself sitting on a couch, watching with barely restrained frustration the movements of the small female figure kneeling before him, eyes glued to the flickering box in front of her. His fingertips drummed impatiently at the armrest, as he tried to keep the tense growl from slipping past his lips. He was grinding his teeth, murderous intent apparent in his vivid blue eyes.

How long was this stupid program supposed to go on, anyway? He was hungry, damn it! And it was dinnertime! This woman should have been in that kitchen, cooking his meal for the night! But instead, she was watching this crap! Some weirdo with a cane, cape and a tall hat, dancing all over the place, trying to present himself as some sort of eccentric spirit-hunting badass!

The blue-haired male snorted. Yeah, right. He wanted to see this guy just try and exorcise a presence like his. He'd send that nut job packing in five seconds.

…...at least, he would, if he were still the fearsome Sexta Espada; not hindered and limited by the various constraints of this world. This admittance only served to provoke his steadily building rage and hunger, as he now began picking at the corner of his Hollow mask. His stomach let out a low rumble. He hated the sound.

"Hee hee..." Now her body was swaying side to side, as she cheered along to the noises emanating from the screen. Her red hair swished behind her, as she threw up her arms once more.

"Remember...spirits are _always_ with you!" She crossed her arms over her chest, throwing back her head as her fingers clenched at the air. "BOO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!" This seemingly innocent action was all it took to make the former Arrancar finally snap. He leapt to his feet with a roar, nearly toppling the poor sofa behind him. On the ground, the young girl jumped, looking up at him with wide grey eyes.

"That's _it_! I can't take this shit any longer! If you don't make me something to eat now, I'm gonna chuck that fucking box out the goddamn window, and _you_ with it! Shut it off! It's fucking annoying!" He was holding his head, hands pressed firmly into ears as he glared daggers at the redhead who was simply watching him from her vantage point upon the wooden floor.

If she was afraid of his previous threat though, she did a good job of hiding it. With a cheery smile upon her face, Inoue Orihime looked back at the TV, noting that her program had indeed come to an end. She never missed an installment of Don Kanonji's show. But that was a bit of a hard concept to explain to someone like Grimmjow...

"Sorry, Grimmjow-san! You're right-I should've gotten dinner ready before the show started!" She giggled, and the former Espada could only blink, the snarl on his face now replaced with slack-jawed disbelief.

He hadn't been completely tamed, gigai or not, and she was still laughing at his outburst? Did this chick have a death wish? Or was she simply oblivious to the concept of fear? He remembered how stoic and steadfast she'd been, even when those two bottom-feeders had been pounding the living daylights out of her in her room. Or when he'd had her neck in his grasp.

_Whatever. As long as I get some food, it's no concern of mine!_ With that settled, he flopped back onto the couch, springs creaking audibly as Orihime stood up before him, making her way to the TV to shut it off. "I'll get started right away!" It was a good thing she'd gone to the market yesterday, and stocked up on all that fish. _Grimmjow-san sure likes his meats..._

He huffed. "Yeah, yeah..." He followed her tiny form with his blue eyes as she skipped to the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she began pulling out various pans and utensils. He smirked just slightly, at the way her hips swayed as she spun on her heel to head for the fridge. Then, catching himself, he quickly turned his attention back to the living room.

Seriously, he was a fucking Espada! Number Six, the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques! What the hell was he doing on Earth-no, not just 'on Earth', but in the 'living room' of one Inoue Orihime, a.k.a the chick that that dumb-ass Kurosaki had claimed to want to save back in Hueco Mundo?

Though granted, she had given him back his arm and his number. And she wasn't nearly _as_ bad as some of the other options that had been laid out before him, when he'd still been under lock and key. And, if he were allowed to admit this to no one but himself, in the comfort of his own mind, girl was easy on the eyes. Ditzy and clumsy as fuck though, no arguments there.

_This has gotta be some kinda joke...a really fucking bad one._ He thought back to that day, leaning into the cushions as he ran a hand through his shocking blue locks. Maybe he would have been better off dead...?

**…...**

The last thing he remembered was Mister Strawberry-Head Hero blocking Nnoitra from skewering him with that big-ass deformed scythe of his. Goddamn honorable Shinigami-wannabe. Who told him to stick his nose in, anyway? Not that he would've liked to slink into Hell with _that_ as his 'cause of death', mind you.

Then, he'd blacked out. He figured it had been the end, come calling at last. To drag him down into the dark. Him, the King of Hueco Mundo-at least, in his mind. But after all the shit he'd gone through just to reach that conclusion, why didn't he deserve the throne? Better him than mantis-dick, anyway.

But, lo and behold, his eyes had opened. And when they had, he found himself surrounded, not by flames and tortured souls, but by vials and tubes and strange faces in white coats.

A lab. He was in a freaking laboratory, being studied, prodded and analyzed, like some kind of rat in a cage. The realization had been an unpleasant one. If this was Hell, then fuck it, he was fighting his way out and usurping whoever was in charge of this shithole. And he'd started by breaking the restraints that held him to that cold table, effectively scaring the small crowd that had been gathered around his unconscious form.

He'd then proceeded to tear his way out of that claustrophobic room, trying to make his way to some sort of surface or higher plane. Surrounded by alarms and various fearful figures, he'd barreled through them all with ease. He was relatively healed, and pissed off. He wanted answers, or a good battle. Either one would satisfy him.

It wasn't until he'd been dog piled by a barrage of black-robed, sword-wielding hard-asses that he'd finally been informed of his surroundings: he was in Soul Society. This came as a major shock to the former Espada, which he expressed the only way he knew how: via curses, threats and futile struggling.

Turns out, Aizen had been defeated. And one of those 'Gotei 13' captains had been roaming around what was left of Hueco Mundo, looking for suitable samples for his research. Another scientist type, just like that whack job, Szayel. Great.

Wonder of wonders, they'd come across his body, barely clinging to life. Of course, they couldn't pass up an opportunity like this; a still living Espada, who could make for delicious research material, and not just in the scientific sense. So, he'd been brought back, treated, and studied.

Now that he was up however, the Society was at a loss as to what to do with him. They'd found two other Espada, one on the battlefield of the fake Karakura Town, the other among the desert of Hueco Mundo, like him. The first went by the name of Tia Harribel, and had been struck down by none other than Aizen himself. Thankfully, she'd been cooperative enough once healed, and as such was in holding, awaiting the fate of her future. The second was none other than Neliel, in her child form, Nel. She too had been more than cooperative, along with her team of odd tagalong servants. Could they really trust Grimmjow to be as obedient...?

Well, at the moment, it was all they had. So, adding a few extra guards, they'd thrown him in a cell, and debated over whether they'd be better off dead, or forever imprisoned. They had been enemies at one point in time, but now that their leader was down for the count...they didn't have anywhere to turn; no agendas to follow. That, and, if they could be persuaded, they'd most definitely be powerful allies.

But. The question remained. Could they be convinced, much less trusted? That was where Kurosaki and his crew had gotten involved, once again.

Grimmjow remembered it clear as day-those aggravating 'trial dates', and how early he'd had to awaken, just to be hauled out and put on a stand in power-restricting binds, growling and trying to hold back the temptation to swear or spit, as he'd been scrutinized by both captains and council alike.

Then, the goodie-goodies had trooped in. And the judging had begun.

They weighed the pros and cons. To keep such high-level prisoners as these was a risk in itself; the last thing they needed was an uprising, and they'd prefer to keep the numbers in the cells to a minimum. But they couldn't very well just let them go, especially if they refused to pledge loyalty-at least, in the male's case. The females seemed fine with switching sides. Still, there had to be some sort of in-between, a compromise.

Amazingly enough, a few faces had come forth to speak on his behalf. Kurosaki, for one. While he still thought the Arrancar was a bastard, he had to grudgingly admit that he had released Orihime from her prison, at one point. The details weren't expounded, but it did count for something. The girl in question had spoken as well-quite passionately, he might add-that, not only had he freed her, but he had gone against his own teammate to keep her about. Their eyes had locked yet again, this time with the roles reversed. He was the captive, and she was free. He couldn't tell if the look in her eyes was pity, or...

Eventually, the group had come to a decision. They needed as much help to call on as they could get. But at the same time, they needed to make sure that this 'help' couldn't go up and turn on them.

So, the gigais were brought in. That grinning man in the striped hat had strode in, all cool and nonchalant. His easygoing demeanor had irked Grimmjow to no end, as he'd surveyed the blue-haired man with shadowy eyes. "Mm-hmm...uh-huh...yep! It can be done!"

He'd given the assembled group a lighthearted wave, as he'd left the chambers the same way he'd entered, wooden clog slippers clacking against the floor. Another checkmark in Grimmjow's mental book of annoyances. "Give me a few days, and I'll have them whipped up!"

Thus, it was settled: Grimmjow, Nel and Harribel were being sent to live on Earth, in restrictive gigais, until their services were required by Soul Society, for whatever reason-or unless they screwed up and had to be 'collected'. This could either mean imprisonment, or death. Looking out over the miserable little town, the Sexta Espada thought momentarily, that either of those two options was better than this. Now, he had no honor left to his name. Completely at the mercy of his enemies.

Oh, but that wasn't the end of it. Not by a long shot. See, they had no idea how to live in the human world. Therefore, until they adjusted to their new bodies, and gained a feel for the surroundings, they would be in the care of someone on Earth. This revelation only served to drive the dagger of defeat ever further into Grimmjow's nonexistent heart. Living? With one of those human freaks?

It hadn't been too hard to find a place for Harribel. She was even-tempered, and as such, could be trusted to reside in Urahara's shop without completely trashing the place. Hell, she was even willing to learn how to work and survive! Seeing as Aizen had thrown her aside so coldly, siding with former enemies wasn't such a sin in her eyes.

And as for Nel, she had been quite chummy with Ichigo when he'd been taking on Los Noches. Plus, considering the fact that he'd wound up losing his Shinigami powers after the confrontation with Aizen, it at least gave him something to do, even if he were playing the role of supernatural babysitter. And there was already a spare bed set up, since Rukia had left. In short, it was better than doing nothing at all. It would take a while to get used to the fraccion, though, as well as her random switches between child and adult.

Grimmjow, on the other hand...well, he'd been another matter altogether. He'd given the officials quite a few headaches trying to determine where he could be placed, without causing a lot of trouble; to expect no damages was nothing short of wishful thinking. But after having been placed in that bloody gigai-which still included his mask, like hell he was going to be turned one-hundred-percent into one of those spineless monkeys, thank you very much!-there was no way they could trust him at Urahara's shop. A pity, since the man no doubt had enough power to restrain him if worst came to worst. But they really didn't want to have to come down just to pick him up a day after letting him go. There had to be someone else with power, who the former Espada could put up with.

They couldn't store him with Ichigo. He already had Nel and her gang to deal with, and if those males had to spend more than five minutes together, it'd be all-out war. Even if the redhead were nothing more than an ordinary human at this point. Not a good situation, considering all the innocents around, as well as the potential for collateral damage with his newly restored Shinigami father.

Grimmjow hadn't had much interaction with Ishida and Chad, but one look was enough to convince them that they wouldn't fare any better in 'getting along'. So who was left?

That was when Inoue Orihime's name came up.

Yes, she wasn't _as_ strong as the others. But she could still hold her own, especially since Grimmjow's powers had been clipped down in the gigai. That, and she was the only other person who'd had any contact with him; knew anything about him at all. Plus, she was good natured, and she lived alone. There wouldn't be a risk of confrontations, or a whole lot of explanations required. And Orihime had stood up for him at the trials...

Of course, there were a few objections, mainly from Ichigo. He may have done his bit of vouching on behalf of the blue-haired menace, but he still had his own reasons not to trust him with Inoue. In particular, that moment when he'd witnessed the male gripping the girl's throat...if only he could see how Orihime viewed the whole situation.

In the end though, the majority won out, and even Orihime had her say. Grimmjow was her new housemate, whether Ichigo liked it or not. He didn't, but had to simply put his faith in his friend, and believe her when she said she could take care of herself.

Now, it was just a matter of hoping Grimmjow wouldn't flip out too badly once he saw his new living arrangements.

**…...**

The Arrancar shook his head. Everyone got to chime in except him. What were they thinking, shacking him up with this, this...lunatic? At least when she'd been in Hueco Mundo, she'd been rightfully quiet and depressed! Here, she was all...sunny, and happy, and bubbly! It drove him crazy! How could she stand being so damn cheerful all the time? The only time he could see a reason for such joy was if you'd just gotten in a good kill! And that smell of hers...she reminded him of fruits and flowers, and sugar. Sweetness. Just like a bloody Princess. No one else smelled like this. It was nearly suffocating!

It had been a week or so since he'd first arrived in his new 'home'. He still hadn't gotten used to it, even though Orihime had done her best to make him feel welcome. After he'd tried lying down on her couch, and decided that it wasn't suitable for a good night's sleep-though he'd much prefer to roam in the darkness, anyway-the girl had gone out of her way to look for a foldout bed just for him. It had eaten up a chunk of her savings, and had been a pain to haul up the apartment stairs. But she'd still done it.

The first time she'd cooked for him...oh, boy. Why hadn't anyone warned him that this chick had such messed up tastes in food? She'd plunked a plate in front of him which, at first glance, appeared to be some kind of seasoned meat dish. He'd dug in, only to retch at the realization that she'd added a few extra ingredients.

"Do you like it?" She had been beaming, so proud of her creation. "It was barbequed beef, but it just seemed so-so bland. So, I decided to spruce it up a little!" She grinned, and Grimmjow had been momentarily caught off-guard by just how wide and bright her smile was. So very warm...she'd never looked like that in Los Noches.

Then, he remembered: on his plate was a dead animal, soaked in BBQ sauce, along with brown sugar, chopped cucumbers and almonds, red bean paste, guacamole, a squirt of citrus and a sprinkling of breadcrumbs.

He'd overturned the table.

That was when Orihime had been taught a few things of her own, too. Rule Number One when living with Grimmjow: eccentricity, especially with food, is _not_ recommended. Not if you don't want to have to clean up afterwards, while first playing unintentional therapist-slash-parole officer.

So, from then on, she'd cooked simple dishes for him. First and foremost, he was a meat eater, though he didn't have any qualms with her leek pancakes or bread spread with honey. They were weird, yes, but still edible.

He huffed to himself. Thoughts like those only served to exacerbate his appetite. That woman still wasn't done yet? To keep himself from tearing at her sofa, he let his eyes wander around the living room. In particular, they lingered on the now quiet and dark 'Tee Vee' box that lay in front of him, a few feet away. He couldn't understand how such an insignificant object could elicit so much attention from the girl.

This is what he got for being out of the human scene for so long. The world had really gone to pot since he'd been alive...when? How long ago was that? He scratched his head and stretched. As if he honestly cared to remember something that wasn't even there. He was here, in the now. That was all that mattered.

_Feh. Stupid idiot box._ He had to admit though, he was kind of bored. He hadn't been left with anything to do while he was waiting for his meal, and...to a certain extent, he was curious. Inwardly, he cursed this trait, attributing it to the feline DNA that ran through his dead veins. But he chose to reach for the so-called 'remote', over engaging in a pointless, one-sided argument inside his head. The tiny plastic device was light in his large hand, as he tried to think back on how the female had used it to control that contraption against the wall.

He shook it, and then pressed one button. Nothing. Then another. And another. He held it up above his head, the front aimed at the ceiling. Hadn't she mentioned something about 'antennae' and 'reception' before, on that one night last week, when it had been raining and the 'screen' had gone 'fuzzy'? He pushed once more. But still, no response. So, he aimed it at the box, pushing a red spot at the top of the remote.

And this time, a reaction. The screen lit up, a white line spreading out from the center, opening up to reveal a new series of bright images. He tilted his head. A pair of humans were holding each other tightly, on top of a cliff, the roaring ocean behind them. He shuddered-water. It made him sick, if it wasn't contained in a cup that could fit in his grip. Though the thought of the two figures diving headfirst over the edge together-or perhaps one shoving the other-made him chuckle to himself in brief amusement.

It didn't last very long though, as the two soon leaned in close, pressing their lips together. Grimmjow gagged. They certainly didn't look like cannibals, and if that was the case then his interest was thoroughly squashed. Human affection-ugh! Nothing but mush! He looked back at the remote, trying to find the switch which would replace the image with a new set. After messing with the volume and screen resolution, he finally got the channel to change. He leaned forwards, watching eagerly as a smiling woman with bright red lips talked to the camera, a shining knife in her hands. A grin spread upon his face. Maybe she was going to carve up a few unlucky saps?

She brought the blade down with a heavy thud, the metal slicing through a hunk of meat that lay atop a wooden board. "That's right! With just one clean swing, the Koshi Knife will cut through anything! And it's not just for single strikes, either!" She then began to chop at a rapid pace, dicing up the raw meat with ease. "See? You've seen what it can do to vegetables, but with your own eyes, you've now witnessed its power against uncooked beef that hasn't been tenderized!" She flashed a dazzling smile.

By this point, Grimmjow had lost his interest. All this was doing was making him agitated, remembering his earlier hunger. He cast a glance towards the kitchen once more, taking note of Orihime hard at work in front of the counter. She was obviously deep in concentration. At least he'd have food soon enough, but...

He sighed. Time to find something else to watch. Another few minutes of confusion, before he managed to get the channel to change once again.

"Freeze! Put your hands above your head!" A cop drama was playing out now, though Grimmjow didn't know this. All he saw was a pair of humans holding tiny little metal devices in their hands, aimed at a third human who had way too much hair on his face. He scoffed as the guy took off running, the previous pair now in hot pursuit over and through various scenery.

_Sheesh. If I were there, all I'd need is a Cero-hell, not even! I could take 'im down without wasting any energy! Pounce and pin! He'd be in pieces before those __two numb-nuts showed up...and I could probably make some nice punching bags outta them, too._ He grinned, looking towards the window. What time was it? Maybe he could sneak in a quick hunt before that woman finished preparing his food?

He was just about to stand up, when the words of a certain blond-haired shopkeep rang out in his head. _"Remember, if you mess this up-even just one step out of line-it's back to Soul Society for you. Or six feet under. Whichever comes first."_

Grimmjow let out an audible groan. So much for that idea. He was lucky that the chick hadn't called the Shinigami forces on him when he'd thrown her cooking halfway across the kitchen. She'd simply been fluttering around, trying to calm him down, apologizing for 'automatically assuming that he wanted any additional toppings on his food'. He'd eventually settled, satisfied by an untouched piece of meat from the pan-her piece, to be precise. And since he'd gone and sent his plate flying...

_Jeez, she's a regular doormat._ He turned his focus back to the remote in his hand, changing the channel once more. Or maybe he just wasn't used to the idea of someone being nice to him, not expecting anything in return? Perhaps he felt guilty for stealing her food.

He growled, clutching at the plastic controller just a bit tighter, causing the surface to make a faint cracking sound. As if. He hadn't felt guilty killing in Hueco Mundo, nor for all the mayhem he'd caused when in this world as an Arrancar. Why the hell would he feel anything over something as small as that?

_I'm the fucking King, the Pantera! Guilt is for those who have shit to regret! Not me!_ The screen morphed yet again, this time to a sporting event. Grimmjow was oblivious to this. All he saw was a pair of human males in a square, marked off by cords. They were clad in shorts and thick gloves, shuffling in and out as they took swings at each other. The ex-Espada leaned closer, curiosity piqued as he watched the confrontation unfold. Unbeknownst to him, this was called 'boxing'.

"...come on! Come on! Aw, you fucking pansy-asses! Tear his throat out! Oh, oh-damn it! So close! Come on, at least knock his block off! What is this, a fight or a fucking courtship? Just slug the bastard!" Now the male was on his feet, remote in fist as he swung his arms at the screen, voice growing louder with every second, the curses dropped becoming far more vulgar in content.

By this time, Orihime had finished grilling the fish on the stove, and was now bringing out the two plates for them to enjoy in the parlor. "Grimmjow-san, dinner is-"

That was when the remote went flying past her head, smashing into the wall opposite her television. She blinked, as another stream of profanities left the male's mouth.

"Son of a blue-balled bitch! What the _fuck_? You guys call yourselves fighters? Where's the blood, the bones, the goddamn carnage? I oughta get in there, rip off your fucking nut sacks, string 'em around your scrawny necks and throttle the both of you until you're-" He froze in mid-sentence, as a tiny hand tapped at his shoulder. Whirling around, he let out a barking reply-a strange sound indeed, considering his released form was like that of a cat. "_What_?_!_"

Orihime was lucky that he hadn't sent her flying as well, with a misplaced strike. She stood beside him, holding up a plate of warm, properly seasoned fish. "Umm...dinner...?"

"Oh." His shoulders slumped, as he looked over at the wall where the broken remote lay. "Uhh-right, yeah." His previous furor deflated, he snatched the plate from her hands and sat back on the couch, munching away furiously. He didn't even bother to pull the bones out. Orihime let out a soft sigh, turning her attention to the new mess she had to clean before she could enjoy her meal.

_I really need to explain the concept of television and organized sports to him some day...and I need to fix the remote, too._ Mentally, she let out a sigh of relief-even if she wasn't fighting, her fairies still came in handy. _At least I don't have to buy a new one. Just had to buy the bed...and the food. Though I did get the mat used, so..._

She looked back at Grimmjow, her long hair effectively blocking her gaze from his view. He was still eating, pausing every so often to pick a bone fragment from his teeth or mask. She supposed that to a panther-much less a dead one, skinny little fish bones didn't mean much.

Still, she had to smile at his gusto. _Just like a cat. I should learn to whip up more seafood dishes. _It would certainly help to conserve her money; meat wasn't cheap, and while fish came with its own price tag, it did cost less than beef. Now, seating herself at the low table with plate in hand, she was pondering whether or not her new companion wouldn't mind some raw concoctions. If they were ocean-based...

And so, another night passed by.

**A/N: Yo. Sooo...o****riginally, this was supposed to be a oneshot. By the time I finished writing, it had clocked in at thirty pages. **_**Way**_** too long to go through in one go. So, I broke it up into four parts, and uploaded it here to my main account as a mini-series. Second attempt at writing anything for this pair, which has ultimately become my current obsession.**

**It follows canon to a certain point; swerves and diverges right before the Fullbringers enter the picture. Mainly because A.) the arc isn't finished, B.) this isn't meant to be an action-adventure epic, and C.) that mostly follows Ichigo, who doesn't get much screen time in this story. Sorry, dude. ^^; [Reason I started reading 'Bleach'? Orihime. Yeah, you can laugh now.]**

**'Ahem' ANYWAYS...this is far more light-hearted than my first oneshot [on second account, OublietteVII], though it is something of a continuation or tie-in. I had fun adding in my own humorous little touches this time around, while at the same time trying to stay as In Character as possible. May have flubbed the Soul Society bit...it wasn't easy coming up with a good explanation for why the surviving Arrancar [or who I think/know survived] would be sent to Earth, much less to live with former enemies.**

**How was this, all in all? All feedback is encouraged, welcomed and appreciated-I **_**really**_** want to know how my first attempt at 'Bleach' chapter fic is going so far. I'm really nervous! Methinks I might have gotten a **_**little**_** carried away when writing Grimmjow...I tried my best to imagine him the situation I'd concocted, and can only hope I didn't mess up his character. Orihime's too; I just couldn't really see her cowering and being miserable in her own home, nor could I see her holding a grudge, especially after what happened w/them, as well as having a task of this nature set upon her.**

**Okay, before this note eats up the fic, I will sign off. Take care, and, hopefully [so long as I have a place to live and access to internet], I'll be seeing you next week with chapter two! Happy Memorial Day weekend!**

**=^.^=**


	2. I Will Follow

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Bleach'. All rights belong to Tite Kubo. I only own this fanfiction, and any OCs that may appear. Thank you.**

**I Can Live With That**

Daytime really was a pain. Which was why Grimmjow never cursed the lack of light in Hueco Mundo.

It was a Sunday morning, and while the former Arrancar wasn't that fond of being cooped up indoors, he could think of at least a few things he'd prefer over being surrounded by mindless flesh bags, standing and waiting as his supposed 'guardian' looked over a display of fresh vegetables under an awning. Like sleeping, or...sleeping?

Okay, he didn't really have anything better to suggest. But that didn't matter! This was torture, pure and simple! He let out a hiss as another group brushed past him; some eagerly chattering teens, who didn't bother to note his presence, ramming his spine with their elbows and purses. He was briefly tempted to wrap the flashy handbags around their throats, or use them as a makeshift javelin. If he put enough strength into it...

And of course, the occasional stares at his mask. Orihime had invented two excuses to cover it up: either he was into body modification-whatever the hell that was-or, he was a particularly devoted drama student, and the mask was from an underrated play he happened to love. Both sounded ridiculous, and he wasn't about to spout them off at every last passerby who just happened to enjoy a staring contest. If he caught one more dirty look, he was going to answer with his fists.

"Hmm...they both seem good..." Orihime was completely oblivious to the plight of her restrained Espada charge, as she held a carrot in one hand and a cucumber in the other. She smiled at their vivid coloration; they'd make for nice additions to a fresh salad, or perhaps to one of her new sushi concoctions she'd thought up this past week. She needed to change up her school lunches. But she didn't want to spend too much, or buy too much at once either. There was a limited amount of room in her fridge; was this really a necessary expense? As she continued to stare at the produce in her hands, her mind began to wander.

"Oh! I say, what lovely weather we're having today!" In her mind's eye, the carrot was now sporting a green top hat and a monocle, as he looked over at the cucumber, tsking in disapproval. There was a hint of an accent to his voice. "A pity you can't bring your spirits up to enjoy it better, eh old chum? The more you frown, the sooner you'll pickle!" Orihime bit back a laugh.

"Yeah yeah, whatever Mister Snappy!" The cucumber had heavy lidded eyes and a bulbous nose, frowning as it stuck out an olive green tongue. "Like I have anything to be cheerful about. Constantly being picked up and put down by people who can't make up their minds whether they want to eat us or experiment on us! We're just food! How hard is it to decide?" His nasal tones were impossible to ignore, and Orihime let out a soft snort.

The carrot chortled at his companion. "Must you always be so gloomy? We are born primarily for consumption, yes, but I daresay that some personal taste goes into the process of selection. After all, some people may prefer carrots with full tops, while others would rather their carrots be bald."

"And I suppose you'll be telling me next that my texture is a turn-off to some mother saddled with plastic bags and screaming tots?" The cucumber's retort was apparently based off of personal observation. The carrot shrugged. "I wouldn't be so callous in my descriptions, but yes."

Now the two pieces were going at it, sending back one question and reply after another, and Orihime couldn't help but giggle. Maybe she could afford to splurge a little, and buy both? Her gaze briefly darted up to the bags hanging above the display, before returning down to enjoy yet another bout of clever comments.

"Eh?" Her sounds had reached Grimmjow's ears, and he now peered over her shoulder, having no clue as to the reason for it. But he had lived with Orihime long enough to recognize that dopey expression on her face as she stared down at the veggies: she was off in her own little world again. Her headspace, which the male could only thank the heavens he wasn't privy to. She was bad enough as it was. In her imagination, she'd have utter free reign. He had to suppress a shiver.

Whatever. The point was, it was a hot day. And there were too many people around. Standing like this only made it harder to avoid being jostled, bumped, or watched by every figure that went squeezing by. And it was taking all his self-control-who knew he actually possessed any-to keep from lashing out. Had she forgotten he existed? That thought did _not_ sit well with him.

Growling, he snatched both of the vegetables from her hands, and she'd jumped at being thrown from her daydreams. Looking up, her eyes settled on the annoyed expression of her companion, as he gave her a sharp scowl, pearly whites bared and gleaming.

"If you're gonna buy 'em, then _buy 'em_. Otherwise, we're moving on, 'cause I got better things to do than stand around being deep fried and prodded under the fucking sun!" And with that, he thrust the produce back into her hands, stomping off. After a few more seconds of indecision, she quickly decided to pick out one more of each, before dropping them into a bag and heading for the register.

She still had other errands to take care of that day, along with her duties as watcher, and an annoyed Grimmjow wouldn't make things any easier. Not that he wasn't normally irked about something or other, but being vocal about it in public could easily lead to disaster, which she wouldn't be able to clean up-not without revealing her powers, or spending all her savings and then some. Plus, she just didn't like the idea of anyone being upset with her as the root...particularly him. But she'd never say this aloud.

Orihime caught up with him a few minutes later. Thankfully, he'd only wandered two shops down. "All finished!" she sang out, and he winced at her cheery tones. How could such _fluff_ be aimed at a guy like him? He looked to and fro, noticing just how thick the crowds were. Maybe he could lose her in them?

"_Remember, if you mess this up-even just one step out of line-it's back to Soul Society for you. Or six feet under. Whichever comes first." _He wanted to slap the side of his head, hoping that the action would drive away that nagging voice. But he knew it was impossible. He was trapped, hook line and sinker.

"Eh-heh-heh-heh...guess I got a little distracted back there. Sorry, Grimmjow-san!" Her comment brought him back to the moment, and he looked at her, frown now half twisted into a confused grimace. This girl really was a piece of work. He'd been the one to snap! Not that he didn't appreciate her admitting to her mistake, but-

"Whatever!" He turned on his heel. "Just hurry up and get your shit finished, so we can go home already!" Home. That dinky little apartment was now his home. It was a concept he didn't think he'd ever be able to get used to.

The redhead grinned and gave a mock salute, though he couldn't see it. But he could hear the familiar joy in her voice. "Okay! On to the hardware store!" With that, she skipped up alongside him, reaching into her small purse to pull out her errands checklist. He'd glanced down at her briefly, the sun catching on her shimmering copper locks as they'd shifted about behind her shoulders with the movement. The bounce in her step had transferred to more than one spot, most visibly to her well-endowed chest. He looked away again, hands shoved in his pockets.

_At least she doesn't carry around one of those stupid-ass oversized 'designer' sacks. Don't have to worry 'bout her whacking me upside the head._ When had purses become the subject here? Soon enough, she'd attempt to get him thinking like her, too. This world was trying to drive him mad! He just wanted this day to be over with.

After walking for about two blocks, the pair finally reached the large outdoor supply shop. Orihime was humming to herself again, as she led the way inside. Grimmjow was forced to troop in, shoulders hunched forwards and hands jammed in pockets. At least his human clothes fit him. Where had she gotten them from, anyway? He had no clue, but at least it was one area he didn't have to bitch about. Knowing her, she could've very well dressed him up in a tutu and a helmet. He'd gotten glimpses of both, but combined? That was scary.

"Alright, now...I need to find some pruning shears for Mrs. Naganuma, and some weed killer for the flower beds outside the bakery..." This particular stop wasn't for her own benefit; Orihime was naturally a generous and helpful person, so when her manager and neighbor had made mention of these necessities, but being unable to pick them up for whatever reason, she'd offered to take on the tasks, no questions asked. They'd repay her for her services afterwards, and she'd be doing good for others. That, and they were very nice people too, so she was more than happy to do them favors.

"Okay, so-we need to go down..." Orihime's gaze was no longer trained on the paper in her hand, as she pointed straight ahead, a smile on her face. Her grey eyes looked upwards, at the large hanging sign. It was headed by a prominent painted '8', and a list of articles in smaller print. "Umm..." Her smile faltered slightly. _Oh, boy. This place...is really big._

Grimmjow wasn't paying any attention to her confusion. His blue eyes were wandering around, lingering on a display to his far left of the latest model in chainsaws, complete with instructions. He grinned slightly. That sucker looked like it could cause some serious damage, if in the right hands. He mused over whether or not he'd be able to get away with revving it up, then claiming afterwards that it was all for a 'demonstration'. It would certainly be fun, but...again, it was a no-go. Didn't need the Soul Society, much less a bunch of orange-vested stiffs on his case. And then, there was that woman to think about, too.

"Ano...it's settled, then! We'll go this way! Come on, Grimmjow-san!" Without warning, her tiny hand was wrapped around his wrist-jeez, it didn't even reach the whole way across! But it sure was warm. She gave a yank, attempting to lead him down the aisle before them. Of course, he didn't move, and the smaller girl let out a yelp as she wound up springing back, bumping into the front of her companion. He let out a low grunt, but didn't flinch as he looked down at her slowly. Orihime let out a nervous giggle, rubbing the back of her head.

"Whoops...I forgot, you're a lot heavier than me! I can't really lead you at all!" She grinned. His expression didn't change.

"Woman...get off of me. _Now_." She blinked, before glancing down, to see that her hand was still holding him tightly. Letting out an "Eep!", she released his arm, and for just the faintest of moments, he missed the contact. But then again, he hadn't initiated it, and he had told her off, so...

His brow furrowed. _As if I really want to touch some human sap, much less want them touching me. Feh. _He rolled his eyes.

"Sorry again...anyways, can you follow me?" Her gaze returned once more to the sign above them. "I think what I'm looking for is down this row, or maybe the one after it." Grimmjow huffed, before brushing past to walk ahead of her. "Like I care."

"Okey-dokey!" She jogged after him, apparently satisfied with the answer. He was glad that she at least had enough sense not to goad him for 'proper' responses. Besides, if he didn't follow her, who knows what would happen? Maybe Soul Society was monitoring them from a distance? Or perhaps she'd wind up getting lost in this gargantuan maze of gardening and hardware. The thought wasn't as amusing as he'd thought it'd be.

_Mainly 'cause knowing how klutzy she is, that's a disaster all on its own. And they say **I'm** destructive. _It was a valid reason. He managed to keep all of these thoughts to himself, merely following the redhead from aisle to aisle, as she searched for the items on her list. After ten rows or so though, the former Espada was feeling his previous aggression begin to rise once more.

_Sheesh...how can it be so hard to find two fucking things? _Orihime didn't seem to mind the time and distance involved, simply leading them down a new row when the one they were perusing turned out to be a dud. And always, always, _always_ it was with those chirpy vocals of hers. Grimmjow could feel his canines grinding.

"Oh, well. Let's go this way!"

"Aw, bummer. Let's try this aisle!"

"Whoops, looks like this isn't it, either. We'll go here, then!"

"Another wrong turn? Maybe we'll have better luck on this side!"

When they'd seemingly traversed through half the store, the male decided that enough was enough. As Orihime was about to guide them down yet another aisle, he reached out, grabbing ahold of the back of her t-shirt. She walked in place for a few moments, before realizing that she wasn't getting anywhere. "Ah?" Looking up, she saw the reason for her lack of movement. "Grimmjow-san, what are-"

"Shut it. You need a fucking map, and I ain't a patient guy. We're getting directions." Spying one of the employees a few displays away, Grimmjow marched over, dragging a protesting and pouting Orihime behind him. With a forceful jab, he managed to get the clerk's attention-and then some. Letting out a cry as he jolted, dropping his labeling equipment on the floor, he whirled around, ready to tell off a rude patron...only to come face-to-face with six feet of Grimmjow.

Now he was sweating. "Y-y-yes?" He squeaked out. "Can I h-help you?"

"Oi. Gimme the list." Without question, Orihime handed over the crumpled paper from behind him. He still had a tight grip upon the collar of her top. The clerk raised an eyebrow, bewildered at the thought of such a sweet and innocent looking girl being involved with a thug like this. But his worries were interrupted as the male shoved the sheet in his face.

"Got any of these?" Stepping back, the employee-his name tag read 'Akio'-took the paper in trembling fingers, to quickly skim over the contents. "Uh, yes-yes, we do. We do! Aisles twenty-seven and thirty-three!" Grimmjow nodded, looking back at his companion. "See? _That's_ how you get shit done." And without a mention of thanks, he'd snatched the paper from Akio's hand, nearly taking the whole appendage with it. The man fell against the shelves, panting hard.

By this point, Grimmjow had let go of Orihime's top. She waved back at the clerk as she ran to catch up with her charge. "Thank you, Akio-san! Have a nice daaay-!" He could only lift his other hand in weak recognition.

The man wasn't a thug. Far from it. He was a _monster_. How could that girl survive in his presence?

"And, done! Another errand crossed off!" Now standing outside of the shop, Orihime was putting the list away in her purse once more, and Grimmjow was ready to tear out his hair. They still weren't finished? "Just how many goddamn places are ya gonna drag me to, woman?" And what new terrors were waiting in store for him?

She beamed. "But you're doing so well, Grimmjow-san! And besides, I like-" The words froze on her tongue, before they could come tumbling out. _"I like being out with you!"_ Her heart had just skipped a beat, and now the restrained Espada was looking at her as if she'd suddenly grown a pair of horns. Hmm...how would she look with horns, anyway-

_No, no, no! I can't afford to daydream now!_ Shaking her head furiously, she strode past him, bright smile upon her face. "Just one more shop, I promise! And then, we can go home for lunch!" Orihime was thankful for the change of subject.

_This chick...I swear, was she dropped on her head as a baby?_ He groaned. "Fine! Just hurry up, before I lose my mind!" Just one more stop. One more stop, and this would all be over. After the madness in that 'hardware' place, nothing could possibly be as bad. Right? There were only so many times one could be misdirected in a single day.

Unfortunately, Grimmjow was about to learn that there were worse things than being lost with Orihime. She actually knew her way to and around the destination this time, but the shop itself...it was...

"Are. You. Fucking. _Kidding_. Me."

The blue-haired male was gaping, at the new shelves and displays that graced his vision. So much pink...and confection...and ribbons, sugar, and big eyes that stared at him like a begging puppy as he was resigned to following Orihime down the sweet-scented aisle closest to the door.

The girl had brought him into a bloody trinkets shop. And it was making him want to hurl.

"Hmm...what to get..." One of Orihime's schoolmates had a birthday coming up. She liked this kind of stuff-as did Orihime herself, though it had been a good while since she'd last been inside the shop-and she was now looking for an appropriate present that wouldn't set her too far back. Maybe a pen set, or some stationary? A couple of cell phone charms, or a keychain? Maybe a small plushy?

Meanwhile, Grimmjow was trying not to gag on the candy-laced air, as he attempted to find something in here to focus on that wasn't completely frilly and eye-searing. It was worse than her own scent! Seriously, what was she thinking, dragging him here? Was she thinking at all? _I ain't one of her little friends that'll just go trooping every which-fucking-way after her!_ He really should've put up more of a fight.

So then...why didn't he?

"Uh?" As he tried to back away from a display of fruit-shaped scented erasers-did they want the kids to study, or eat the damn supplies?-his elbow bumped into something soft, and fuzzy. With a jingle and a faint thump, it fell to the floor behind him. Looking down, he tilted his head, before kneeling to pick it up. He had told himself that he wouldn't touch anything in this place without gloves and a stick, but...

It was a cat. A stuffed cat. It fit in his hand, paws and tail tip just barely reaching the base of his fingers. It was pale blue, with a little tuft of fur atop its head. Almost the exact same shade as his hair. Its face wasn't one of those sad 'pity me' expressions; it had small, round blue marble-like eyes with black centers, a faded pink nose, the lightest outline of a mouth, and whiskers. At the very end of its tail was a little golden bell.

He shook the stuffed toy, hearing the tiny ringing once more. He shook it again. Then again. He smirked. Not nearly as freakish as the rest of the shit in this store. Kinda reminded him of-

"What'cha got there, Grimmjow-san?" He nearly bit through his tongue, and shoved the toy back upon the rack. He'd almost forgotten who had dragged him into this hell-hole in the first place: _her_. Standing beside him with a wide, imploring smile upon her heart-shaped face and a small package behind her back, Orihime glanced over at the display that the male was now trying to disassociate himself from. "Nothing! It fell down, so I had to put it back up! I swear, this store is a fucking train wreck! I can barely move around, and it-"

But he was cut off by a squeal of delight and a stream of giggles. Orihime had gotten her hands on that little blue kitten, and was now cradling it to her chest. Inwardly, Grimmjow wanted to murder something. Outwardly, a vein was twitching in his forehead. _She found it...**shit**._

"It's adorable! I can't believe I didn't notice it before!" She let out another giggle, before turning back to face him. "And it looks just like you! Well, minus the mask, and the hole...oh, but you don't have the hole now! So it's just the mask-ah, you could add one with paper! Or cloth! They even have pens for fabric, so you could draw in the teeth!" Now Grimmjow was looking at her as if he wanted to commit her. Or sew her mouth shut. Maybe both.

"Woman...what the _fuck_ are you on?" She blinked, looking at him with that smile of hers, as if she didn't understand. "That-that _thing_ looks nothing like me. And no, I am _not_ adding a fucking mask to its face! Hell, I'm not even buying it! I don't want it!" He reached out, to take it from her and toss it once again onto the shelf. But Orihime drew back.

"I saw the way you were holding him, Grimmjow-san!" Since when did the stuffed animal have a gender? And how was he holding it? He was shaking it to hear the damn bell! That's all! "Does it remind you of your released form?"

The male wanted to scream. His released form was bad-ass! It was _not_ cute and cuddly and made of fluff and fucking stuffing! He was the motherfucking Pantera, not a kitten with a bell growing outta its tail! It reminded him of jack squat! "It does not-"

But Orihime wasn't listening. She had already taken the plush figure to the counter, and was pulling out her wallet to pay for it. As much as Grimmjow was tempted to throttle her, there was a bright side to all of this. It meant that they were leaving this place, and returning to the apartment. He may not have been able to yet call it home, but right now it was looking way more inviting than usual.

As they headed for the exit, Orihime attempted to give him the bag with the toy in it. He responded by roughly shoving it back at her. "I ain't holding that thing. You keep it-add it to that fucking mountain in your room, why don't you?" So he'd gotten a peek at the inside of her bedroom when he'd been particularly bored one night and wandering the hall. She'd left her door open after heading for the shower. Big deal.

Orihime bit her lip, looking down at the bag. She held onto it the whole walk back, but once they'd stepped inside the complex, she proceeded to place it on top of his fold-out bed in the living room, before heading to the kitchen. The male growled at her actions, and was ready to throw the blasted thing at her head as she made her way to the fridge, to put away the previously procured vegetables.

But instead, he found himself simply tossing the package back onto his sleeping space, then stomping over and sitting on the couch in a huff. He wanted food. He wanted to forget all that had happened that day. Picking a fight with her was no fun...well, not here. It had been back in Hueco Mundo-and scratch that thought. He didn't want or need the Shinigami swooping down to deal with him again.

And, as the day drew to a close, he wound up pulling the plush cat from the bag, eventually setting it beside his pillow as he forced himself to try and sleep. He was such a predator; he loved the night. He glanced over briefly at the toy, whose side was facing him. _I wonder if this guy's a hunter, too?_

There was silence for a few moments. Then...

"Aw, fuck! She did it again!" With a rough turn, Grimmjow had rolled over, back facing the figure. This torment was never-ending. Seriously.

**A/N: :) Hee hee. Yes, it ends on something of a fluffy note.**

**Chapter two here of 'ICLWT'! We have two more installments to go after this! How are you all enjoying the misadventures of Orihime and Grimmjow so far?**

**Again, I did my best with the characterizations, as well as trying to invent some memorable [and, to a certain extent, cute XD] situations between the two of them. How is it turning out, in your opinions? Please, please, _PLEASE_-don't be afraid to drop me a line! The feedback is welcomed and appreciated, _SO_ much! I won't bite! I promise! [I'm not like Grimmjow. ;p ****Jeez, I'm torturing the poor guy. Is it wrong if I'm having fun with it, too? ^^;]**

**Next chapter should be out in another week. I hope you'll all be looking forward to it!**

**=^.^=**


	3. Feed Me Pet Me

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Bleach'. All rights belong to Tite Kubo. I only own this fanfiction, and any OCs that may appear. Thank you.**

**I Can Live With That**

Midday. The lovely sunlight was casting its warm glow over the setting of Karakura Town, as crowds bustled and mingled, cars and bikes went whizzing past on the streets, and businesses remained productive, catering to the masses in whatever manner they were designed for. It was a happy, fulfilling Thursday.

"...rrgh..." But the figure stirring under the sheets in the parlor could have really cared less what day of the week it was, or what time. All he knew was that A.) it was hot. Too hot for him to be bundled up. And B.) he was hungry. Ravenously so, in fact.

Sitting up from his curled position amongst the messy blankets and crooked pillows, Grimmjow let out a yawn as he stretched. He felt his muscles shift and his joints crack, before settling into their proper places. He glanced over at the nearby window, scowling as he rubbed the mask along his jaw. That damn sun was roasting him under his own bedsheets. He had to move. Now.

Standing up, he dragged himself across the wooden floor, flipping off the twittering birds outside the glass. Stupid winged noisemakers. They had no purpose, other than being fun to tease and scatter. And, on a rare occasion or two, made a decent snack-if you were stuck in the great outdoors. He grunted. Thankfully enough, he had access to real food here. He may not have thought _that_ much of her, but if there was one thing Orihime could do, it was cook. And eat, but that was a different story altogether...

His stomach growled loudly. He frowned, looking down at his bare abdomen. It was strange, to feel smooth skin and muscle where once had been an opening. And in this gigai, his hunger was far more prominent. It bugged him. He hated the sensation of having a human appetite. As an Arrancar, he'd had a better time of it, being able to ignore the feeling as time went on. He wouldn't suffer without Earth food. But now, he was forced to deal.

He scratched at his boxer shorts. Underwear-yet another concept that he couldn't understand. Humans had an answer or invention for damn near everything. His eyes lingered on the clock, as he walked into the kitchen. It was a little after 'twelve o'clock', which was supposed to signify 'lunchtime'. No wonder his insides were acting up.

It was a weekday, which meant that Orihime was away at that school of hers. Hopefully, she'd left behind something good for him to chow down on. Yesterday, he'd enjoyed leftovers from the previous night's dinner. He could smell something that seemed edible, and as he turned his gaze towards the counter, he spied a soup bowl, covered by foil. He grinned. _Lucky me._

But as he lifted up the wrap, his nose wrinkled and his eyebrows raised. What fresh hell was this?

Suspended in a golden-brown broth were pale noodles. Floating among them were bits of chopped greens-onions-along with strips of egg and these slices of bright pink and white. He brought his face closer, sniffing hesitantly. Vaguely, he remembered hearing the girl refer to the neon bits as 'kamaboko', or fish cakes.

Attached to the counter was a small note, with a pair of chopsticks beside it. He read the paper, hoping for an explanation.

"_Good morning or afternoon, Grimmjow-san!_

_I made you some somin noodles! I was running late this morning, so I didn't really have a lot of time to cook. Sorry! ^^;_

_Hope you like it! Sorry again if it's cold! But it can be eaten cold, too...I think?_

_Well, enjoy!_

-_Orihime"_

He tilted his head. Well, he did like fish. Hopefully, there was enough of those kamaboko bits to sustain him? He looked over once more at the bowl. Most likely not. Guess he'd have to try the rest of it, then. With a groan, he picked up the included utensils, and after bringing the food to the low table, proceeded to shovel the meal down his throat.

It didn't take him very long to decide that he didn't really like these 'somin noodles'. The broth was flavorful, yes, but the noodles were thin and not very filling. The few bits of substance were gone far too soon. He liked his foods to be more solid; there wasn't a whole lot to chew here. And once he was done, his stomach proceeded to let out a audible grumble. He was still hungry.

Damn it...how was he supposed to fix this? He had no idea how to cook! When it came to the kitchen, Orihime was in charge! He hated to admit it, but it was true. Aside from the occasional snack-which wasn't much for sustenance, either-he was completely clueless. And if he remembered the concept of 'time' correctly, Orihime wouldn't be home for another few hours.

"Shit!" Now he was seeing red. What had she been thinking, leaving him alone with only that dinky bowl to survive on? He was going to snap before she came back! This place would be a war zone! He growled, trying to resist the urge to smash through the nearby wall with a furious volley of punches. _That woman...I swear..._

And that was when inspiration struck.

She was at school, right? And it wasn't supposed to be too far from here. The distance didn't matter to him; he could still invoke a few of his abilities, even in this restrictive flesh. He needed food, and Orihime was the only one capable of making it.

Therefore, if he couldn't get to the food here...he'd just get the food to come to him. He'd bring her back here, to make him a proper meal. Simple. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it before. A wide grin spread out across his face.

"Heh." Picking up his discarded shirt and jeans, he pulled them on, and prepared to head out. At least he was well-versed enough to remember to change before leaving. But really, his Espada uniform had been less of a hassle than this. _I hate buttons. And zippers._

_But at least I'm getting what's mine._

**…...**

"Yay! It's lunchtime!"

Throwing up her arms in apparent joy, Orihime stretched in her seat, before reaching down under her desk to pick up her meal for the afternoon. Standing beside her, Tatsuki chuckled, her own lunch in her hands as she sat down in the seat next to her. "Same as always, Orihime. Don't ever change."

"Ano?" Orihime tilted her head. "But wouldn't it be awesome to be a shape-shifter?"

Before her best friend could reply to that bizarre question, a loud shriek interrupted them, as a blur of dark pink came rushing at them. "Hime-chaaan!" Tatsuki shook her head, sticking out her leg. The figure let out a yelp as they fell forwards, boxed lunch landing on top of them. "Owwie..."

As Orihime looked over the edge of her desk, Tatsuki leaned down to pick up the food, before the girl sat up and it spilled. "You never learn, do you Chizuru?" At this, the female on the floor huffed, rising to her feet and casting an annoyed glance in the tomboy's direction.

"Learn what? Hime and I always have lunch together! It's our own 'special tradition'!" She giggled, and leaned over to cup Orihime's face in her hands. "Right, Orihime?" The girl blinked. "Ah...but I always have lunch with Tatsuki-chan, too..."

"Exactly. So quit with the dramatics and eat already, horn dog." Shoving the boxed meal into the female's hands, Tatsuki opened her bag and began separating the contents. In response, Chizuru pouted, but nonetheless took the seat in front of Orihime, turned around so her chest was pressed against the back of the chair. "That may be, but I doubt that you feed each other, like we do!" Beaming, Chizuru unwrapped her food, and plucking out a piece with her chopsticks, held it out to Orihime. "Open wide, Hime-chan!"

"Is it good?" Tatsuki had just given Orihime a taste of one of her sushi rolls. The redhead nodded, familiar smile in place as she licked at the corners of her mouth. She could feel a few stray pieces of rice. "Uh-huh! Thank you, Tatsuki-chan!" Today, Orihime had a serving of somin noodles for herself; what was left of the meal she'd cooked earlier for Grimmjow. _I hope he liked them...I haven't made them for him before, and it's much lighter than what I usually give him..._

As Chizuru tried not to mope as she ate her untouched offering, Orihime's thoughts continued to wander. Like she'd written on the note-which she had no idea of whether or not he'd actually read it-she hadn't had the time this morning to prepare something thicker. Her alarm hadn't gone off; the batteries had died. _That reminds me-I need to stop at the store on my way home from work and pick some up._ Dinner would be just a bit later tonight.

Hopefully, Grimmjow wouldn't be too upset over this. The Arrancar was used to her shifts, but she didn't know how long it would take to buy the batteries. What if there was a long line, or they had to get more from storage, or even worse, a holdup? Her imagination swum with the possibilities. _I can find a way to make it up to him...maybe I'll bring home something from the bakery!_

Mulling over these ideas, Orihime was oblivious to the commotion outside the school, which gradually made its way into the building. Chizuru and Tatsuki caught wind of it though, but before they could go out into the hall to check it out for themselves, the sliding door slammed open. Both girls jaws dropped, and Orihime looked up, in a daze.

"Oi. Woman." There, with a good sized crowd of curious spectators gaping behind him-including a few teachers-stood Grimmjow. She felt her heart skip once again. This seemed to be a common occurrence around him. _W-why is he here? __**How**__ is he here? Is something wrong?_

By this point, he was striding up to her desk, planting his palms against the sides of the wood. He leaned forwards, until his head was at eye-level with hers. Chizuru was in shock; how did a behemoth like this know her sweet Hime-chan?

Tatsuki, on the other hand, was on guard. She'd been informed of the goings-on, mainly because she was one of the closest people to Orihime outside. And she'd gotten a chance to meet the other two ex-Espada on her own time. Nel had been quite friendly, and Harribel, though quiet, was polite. This guy, on the other hand...her pal may have watching over him, but that didn't mean she was about to trust him automatically, any farther than she could throw him. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want with Orihime?"

Grimmjow paid no mind to the looks, nor the whispers or Tatsuki's question. His attention was focused entirely on Orihime. "I'm hungry." Casting his gaze down, he took note of the fact that she was sharing the same meal as him, if smaller in proportion. Somehow, he felt a twinge of smugness. So she hadn't been lying in her note, at least. Not that he could imagine a goody two shoes like her lying, anyway.

His blue eyes flickered back up to meet her puzzled grey gaze. "Hungry? But Grimmjow-san, I left you a bowl of noodles-"

He cut her off. "Ate 'em already. They weren't filling at all. Not enough, and more importantly, not enough _meat_." Now he was running a hand through his shocking, spiky blue locks, as he looked away. He hadn't expected having to explain it all to her once he'd gotten here. He'd figured he'd just get her to come with him, and then...

By now, the whispers were barely contained, as the classroom spectacle continued to draw more attention. Tatsuki gritted her teeth; some people really had no lives. But this guy-Grimmjow, was it-wasn't making it any easier for her friend, barging in a place where the crowds were most definitely going to stare and talk.

"Who _is_ that guy? He looks like someone outta a movie!"

"Maybe he's Yakuza?"

"He's so big...and frightening!"

"Well,_ I_ think he's hot!"

"Me, too! Just look at those muscles..."

"Even the hair! He's got a lot of guts to dye it like that!"

"Not a weakling like most of the _boys_ here! A _real _man!"

"You're crazy! He looks like a psycho! And what's with that thing on the side of his face?"

"I think it's...a mask? A half-mask? So weird! How's it staying up?"

"He's got such an air of mystery. Lucky Inoue."

"Yeah, how does _she_ know a guy like him?"

"Do you think that...they could be dating?"

"What? No way! At least, I don't think so...?"

"So _that's_ the type she goes for? I'd never have guessed."

By now, Chizuru had overcome her shocked stupor, and proceeded to wave her hand in between the pair. "Hey! Orihime, who is this dude? How does he know you? And what does he want?" _If he thinks he can come in here and steal away MY Hime-chan...well, he's got another thing coming!_

Holding back the urge to rip off the appendage that waggled before his gaze, Grimmjow chose instead to push it aside, sending its owner with it. His eyes had never left Orihime's face. She was trying to figure out what was going on. "But...Grimmjow-san, I still don't understand why you're here?"

He growled, leaning even closer. He was practically nose to nose with her, and her lunch was in danger of being knocked off the desktop, or crushed.

"Look. I'm _hungry_. The shit you left me wasn't enough. And you know damn well that I can't cook. I'm hungry, and you deal with the kitchen. You make food happen. So you're gonna give me something good to eat, _now_." Tatsuki was dumbstruck at his attitude and language, while Chizuru was seething, both from the comment and nearly having fallen over when he'd shoved her. _She __**cooks**__ for him? The sleazeball! He's trying to take advantage of my Hime! _

Orihime wasn't sure how to respond to this. He had come out all this way, whipping up the student body, just because he was hungry? He wanted food? No, more specifically: he _needed_ food, and wanted _her_ to give it to him? He...he needed her? She couldn't help it-a faint trace of baby pink coloring flushed her cheeks. Grimmjow noticed this, but said nothing.

"Hey, knucklehead!" Tatsuki was ready to throw down. She took the look on Orihime's face as one of discomfort. So it was time for her to step in. "I don't know who you think you are, but you can't-"

"I..." She was cut off by a soft voice. Orihime was looking down at her desktop, eyes trained on her unopened noodle bowl. She was focusing on anything and everything that wasn't him, wasn't this blue-haired man who was currently playing havoc with her pulse. "I'm sorry...but I can't. I have classes right now." She forced herself to look up, so he'd understand how serious she was. "I'm in school, Grimmjow-san! I can't just leave!"

If she'd thought that he would take an answer like that and exit peacefully though, she was sadly mistaken. Without any hesitation, his hands were securely under her arms. Orihime thought her heart was going to explode. Now, he was smirking. "Who said I was asking?"

"Yeek!" And with one swift yank, he'd pulled the redhead from her seat, over her desk, until he had her slung over his broad shoulder. The crowds were gasping, as he made his way towards the door. Orihime was doing her best to stay calm. She wasn't afraid of being carried. She was far more worried about her friends. Tatsuki was running after him, yelling fiercely. Espada or not, he was flesh and bone now. And therefore, susceptible to a good left hook. "Put her down, you jerk! I ain't afraid to take you on!" Chizuru was following her, possibly intending to fight as well-or maybe she was going to act as cheerleader.

"T-Tatsuki-chan! Chizuru-chan! I'm alright! Please, believe me! Don't worry!" Orihime was waving her arms frantically, hoping the girls would stop. They had almost reached the door. "J-just tell the teacher that I'm going to be a little late to my next class-I had something to take care of at home! Umm, you could say my neighbor's flowers are siiick...!" Her voice faded out, as Grimmjow passed through the doorway, the gathered crowds quickly moving aside to let him by.

"...damn it." As much as Tatsuki would have preferred to chase down that lunkhead, Orihime's last words rang out in her mind. She worried about the girl, yes, but she also knew that they'd been sharing a residence for at least two weeks now. Orihime knew what she was doing when it came to this issue, no matter what it looked like on the outside.

"Aren't you going to go after them?" Chizuru's hands were balled into fists. Tatsuki shook her head, turning around and returning to her seat. She began putting away Orihime's lunch, carefully storing it under her chair once more before sitting down to finish eating her own meal. Chizuru was staring.

"You heard her. She doesn't want us to interfere. And I trust Orihime. She's no weakling, nor a little girl. She said she'd be back. So I have faith in her." Chizuru fell into her seat, slumping against the back as she struggled to collect herself. Had the world gone loopy?

It was only as she brought her second bite to her mouth that Tatsuki realized the crowds were still looking into the room, ogling them in confusion, awe and, among a few faces, jealousy. She felt a fresh surge of anger.

"What the hell are you gawking at, huh? Go find something else to do! Show's over! Nothing to see here! Beat it!" Her ferocious outburst was more than enough to drive away the dawdling onlookers. In no time at all, the classroom was empty, save for the few other students scattered about, who had been eating lunch as well when the whole mess had begun. They were trying to keep from fainting. Tatsuki was ready for the end of the day to arrive already, as she looked at her unfinished food half-heartedly.

_Jeez...and I can only imagine how Ichigo and his buddies would react if they ever caught wind of this. _Slumping forwards in her chair, the tomboy rested her chin upon the tabletop, feeling utterly drained. Chizuru looked at her with a new interest.

"Are...you going to eat that?" She pointed her chopsticks at the girl's lunch.

**...**

And so, Orihime found herself back home, clad in her apron as she stood in front of the stove, whipping up a new meal for her cranky companion. _I hope I don't wind up in detention because of this...I'm certain Grimmjow-san wouldn't like that at **all**. _If she were punished, it would also interfere with her after-school job. And now more than ever, she needed that extra money. She couldn't afford to miss shifts.

Amazingly, as hungry as he was, Grimmjow said nothing while she cooked. He'd completed his half of the job; his food would be ready soon enough. As he sat in the parlor, he gave a quick glance to the girl in the kitchen. His gaze lazily drifted over her figure, as he watched her focusing on whatever was grilling in the pan.

Boy, the looks he'd gotten when he'd shown up, as well as afterwards, with Orihime in his grasp. The crowds on the streets had been struck dumb by the display. He was surprised that, yet again, he'd gotten away with it. Though he hadn't really been violent this time around, could it still count for kidnapping?

_School. Meh. Not my concern._ He had to admit it to himself however, if no one else...he liked having this sort of control. And he certainly got a kick out of disrupting the norm. Orihime's face had been beet red by the time they'd arrived at the apartment. Her heart had been thumping wildly, and he could feel it through his shoulder, as well as the occasional brush of her ample bosom. Her legs had swung and flailed a few times, and he'd been oh so tempted to...reach over, and...give her thighs a squeeze. Maybe a little nip-nothing too hard. Perhaps leave behind the faintest of bruises. Let her know who was in charge here-

_ARRGH! Stupid hunger! When's that food gonna be ready?_ He looked away quickly, scoffing under his breath. His thoughts went wonky when there was nothing in his system. Not that the girl didn't look good, or have nice legs, but still! He was looking forward to the day he would leave this blasted rat-trap, along with her clinging presence. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

_And that's that. Humph._

**A/N: Denial. It's not just a river in Egypt. XD**

**How was that? More misadventures between Grimmjow and Orihime! And this time, high school's thrown into the mix! 'has wanted to write this for SO very long now' Hell, I had this scenario planned out even before I started this oneshot converted into four-parter! It's probably my favorite sequence out of all of them so far. ^^ [Though undoubtably also the shortest. :( ]**

**As usual, _all feedback is encouraged, welcomed and appreciated._ Let me know how characterization turned out, particularly with the newcomers. Along w/writing a school scene, I've also wanted to play around w/Orihime's social circle, particularly Tatsuki and Chizuru. They're so awesome. Hope I got them about right? ^^;**

**Next time: the final chapter! What lies in store? You'll have to wait and see! Take care!**

**=^.^=**


	4. Wonderful

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Bleach'. All rights belong to Tite Kubo. I only own this fanfiction, and any OCs that may appear. Thank you.**

**I Can Live With That**

For some reason, it seemed like the dishes were taking a lot longer than usual to wash tonight.

It was Saturday night, and Orihime was standing in front of the sink, cleaning up after yet another evening meal. In the living room, Grimmjow was sprawled upon the couch, flicking through the channels in search of something worthwhile of his attention. So far, he'd found nothing.

Today had been especially rough. Orihime had a ton of homework to complete, half of which was still in her bedroom, untouched. She'd had a shift at the bakery before that, and then upon her arrival at home, had to start hauling out the pots and pans for dinner, lest her companion bite off her head for forgetting to at least start the meal. _I'm going to be up until midnight, if not longer...it sure is a lot of work just to live._

She wasn't one to complain about working hard, but she couldn't deny that her muscles were rather on the sore side. Tomorrow was definitely going to be a lazy day. They'd just stay home and sleep, goof around. Maybe if she felt better, she'd come up with some sort of dessert for later. Perhaps she could bake something? Sure, Grimmjow was more interested in meat, but that didn't mean he couldn't handle anything else. It would just take a little while to cultivate his sweet tooth. Everybody had one. Right?

At long last, the dishes were clean. Letting out a soft sigh, Orihime wiped her hands on the dish towel and padded out of the kitchen, leaving the light on. Her attention was now focused on the shrine against the wall. She passed the male without a word, seating herself before the display. She didn't notice it, but he had sat up, turning around to watch her in contemplative silence as she relayed the events of her day to her older brother.

He'd never understood this part. Every morning and night, no matter how tired she was or if she were late or had more things to do, she'd always seat herself in front of that little memorial, and start chatting away. The morning routines were shorter, but they played out nearly the same. She'd end with a prayer and whispered words of love. It bugged him to no end.

Yeah, he knew there was something after life was extinguished. Hello, former Espada here! But he just couldn't see the use in going on and on for someone who wasn't even here anymore and, for the most part, wouldn't hear her words. It was empty to him, a waste. They did their own things, things that didn't involve the living. She should know that. There were better things one could do with their time. But he'd never open his mouth to tell her this. She'd go off to her room afterwards, or outside, and eventually his disgruntled mood would pass, so he'd drop the subject until the next day, when it all started again.

He heard her hands clap together, then a soft giggle. "Okay, Sora. I love you. Good night." She stood up, but this time instead of heading for her bedroom, she passed him once more to return to the kitchen. A small vase was in her hands. He followed her with his blue-eyed scowl, as she hummed softly, refilling the water and rearranging the flowers. He let out a scoff.

As she passed by him a third time, he just couldn't hold the words back. She bent down, to replace the vase. "He can't even hear you, ya know." She froze for a moment, before resuming her actions. This annoyed him. Turning off the TV, he stood up and walked over, now standing beside her in front of the shrine. Orihime glanced across at him, but still said nothing.

He looked down at the small, modestly decorated memorial with his lips curled into a bitter sneer. The girl stood up, wiping off stray water drops upon her uniform skirt. "I know he can, Grimmjow-san. I can't explain it, but-"

He cut her off, not with a comment but actions. Leaning down, he'd picked up the picture she'd had resting in the center. Her words stuck in her throat, as she watched him survey the photo of her elder brother with wide grey eyes.

"Feh." The face staring up at him didn't really look like the woman he was staying with. He had dark, shoulder-length hair, and was dressed in a crisp suit. He looked like a stiff. The only thing they had in common were their eyes; both were a shade of grey, though his were far darker than hers. Maybe it was the clothes he was wearing. He had to wonder, for a second, where the redhead had gotten her looks from.

"P-please..." The stuttering tones caught his attention. He looked over, eyebrow raised as Orihime gazed at him, worry evident in her eyes. One hand was reaching out, towards the frame he held in his large hand. "Please give it back."

Grimmjow looked at the photo, then at Orihime, then at the photo again, before retuning his eyes to hers. His stare narrowed. "I don't get it. You're not obligated to do any of this shit. He's not gonna do anything about it. Why do you insist on living in the past?" She looked away, arm lowering to rub at her shoulder. She was shifting where she stood, leaning on foot, then the other.

"It's not an obligation...I loved my brother. I still do. I can't-" Again, the words failed her. There were many things that she was willing to explain to him, but not this. Not this one. Maybe someday, but not now. "You wouldn't understand." She looked up at him once more. "Please...give it back."

He couldn't figure it out. Was it what she said? Did he feel like she was shutting him out? Did he think she thought he was too thick to share it with? Was he just in one of his moods? Whatever it was, he could feel his chest tightening; it was as if he were being strangled from the inside out. He hated this feeling. And she was the cause of it. His eyes flashed.

"What, you think I'm stupid? Think I don't know what's going on-that I ain't 'worthy' enough to know? Fuck that!" His outburst made her jump, as he looked down at the photo with a new sense of loathing. "He's dead. He's dead! Dead, dead, dead, fucking _dead_!" He whirled around, glare boring down on her. "And all of _this_-" he waved an arm to indicate the shrine, "-all these pretty words and whatnot, it ain't gonna change that! It ain't gonna bring him back! You keep wallowing in your misery, and you'll never move on! Wake the fuck up!" His grip was tightening around the photo, and Orihime could tell he was ticked off. What if he broke it?

"Please!" Diving forwards, her hands wrapped around the other end of the frame. "Let go! Just give it back, Grimmjow-san!" So much energy and furor, all over this? Over a face that wasn't even here anymore? _He_ was here, but where was her reaction to that? He snapped.

"Stop living in your goddamn daydreams!" He yanked back, and that was when the photo flew from his grip. Orihime let out a gasp, grasping at the air as it fell face-down to the ground. With a loud crunch, it hit the wooden floor. Grimmjow was silent, staring as slowly, the female knelt down, a trembling hand extending to pick up the frame from the wood. As she did so, a few tiny pieces of glass clinked against the floor. She turned it over, to confirm the damage.

The glass was cracked, a few open spaces now visible. The photo underneath had been disturbed just slightly, pressing against the front with a faint crease. She held it in her shaky hands, trying to keep the emotions from flaring up and spilling over. She stood up, head hanging down. Grimmjow still said nothing, gaze taking in the fractured frame, and then her long amber locks, blocking her face from view. Looks like there was another mess to clean up. He let out a sigh. "Look, I didn't-"

"_Shut up_!" She rounded on him, and he had to take a step back. The energy radiating from her was almost burning in its intensity. Her grey eyes were shining with unshed tears, but the look on her face wasn't one of sadness. It was one of fury. As if she were asking without speaking, 'how dare you?' He hadn't seen a look like that on her before, not even in Hueco Mundo. Was she going to attack? Lash out? He prepared himself for a confrontation.

"Just...just don't!" Orihime turned away, running for the door. Kicking off her slippers, she shoved her feet into a pair of flats, photograph still in her hand. She opened the door and ran out, slamming it behind her. He could hear her rapid, frenzied footsteps gradually grow fainter as she made her way down the stairs. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened.

She could have hit him. She could have sic'ed her little fairies on him. She could've cussed him out-not that he could ever imagine her swearing, but it was an option, or even thrown him out into the streets. Instead, she gave him that death glare, and then took off running. From her own house. How did that make any sense?

"Sheesh..." Strolling back over to the couch, Grimmjow flopped down onto the cushions, enjoying the quiet. He'd never understand this girl. Wasn't she supposed to be all bubbly and full of sunshine and shit? Then why did she allow something like this to keep her down?

He'd seen others engaging in similar rituals, like her. He thought it was a waste of time then, and he still thought so now. But that look on Orihime's face...he'd never seen it before. For one moment, he seriously thought he was in for it. If looks could kill, he'd have been dead ten times over. It shouldn't have bugged him; he lived for rage, hatred. For confrontation.

So then, why...why did it bother him so much, to remember that expression, and the power behind her words? She hadn't said much, but she'd said enough. She'd told him off, for one. And the last bit-it was her way of blocking him out. He'd never had that happen before. He could read her like a book, front to back. But this time, he was lost. He saw the fury, saw the pain...and didn't like it.

"Damn it." He ran a hand through his blue hair. What concern was it of his if she was going to hold a grudge over an accident? He'd said his piece, she didn't like it. Big deal. People had different opinions all the time. This wasn't something he was unfamiliar with.

And yet...there was a part of him that was chiding him mentally. It wasn't telling him to apologize, or comfort her. Nothing sappy like that. It was simply telling him to reach out: reach out to this woman, who had reached out to him. Had allowed him into her life, without expecting anything in return. Reach out to her, and...listen? Was that it? It wanted him to just shut up for once, and instead of being so goddamn aggressive actually take the chance, the opportunity, to see it from her side. She may have been ditzy, but she had spine when it counted. She tried to, at least. There had to be a reason for her defiance. And why, he couldn't answer yet, but he wanted to know.

_Why me?_ Of all the people he could've been stuck with, he had to be stuck with the subtly manipulative doe-face, with the big rack and flame colored hair, and an imagination bigger than-well, there were many things he could compare it to, none of which were very flattering. Aside from the last one, but that poked fun at himself, and he couldn't have that.

He looked towards his bed, eyes lingering on the stuffed cat beside his pillow. She'd bought that stupid thing for him, hadn't she? Standing up, he made his way over, bending down to yank it up in his hand. He surveyed it with supposed disinterest, though he turned it every which way to note every last detail. He shook his head.

_I didn't even want the damn thing...yet she insisted on buying it. Gave it to me. Could've thrown it out whenever I felt like it._ He began tossing it up and down in his hand like a ball, ears listening to the tiny jingles that rang out with every motion. He made his way back to the couch, sitting down and then resuming his game of catch. The fuzzy fur was soft against his palm as he continued to watch, thoughts trailing away from the actions back to the girl who had fled from her home, leaving him behind.

He had no clue as to where she could've gone. The school? A friend's house? Her work place? Granted, with his abilities, it wouldn't take him very long to track her down. But no matter what that nagging urge deep inside was trying to convince him of, he refused to act on it. She could find her own way. Besides, it was nicer having the place to himself.

Well..._almost_ to himself.

After a few more minutes of unintentional musing, Grimmjow couldn't take it anymore. Letting out a growl, he stopped his game, and whirled around to glare at the empty shrine. He jabbed a finger in its direction. "Damn you, for having such a fucked up sister! And makin' me have'ta share her!" And before he could scold himself for the last line he leapt up, heading for the door.

He'd find her and bring her back. It was her house, after all. And if something were to happen to her...screw the Soul Society, Kurosaki would be after his ass. He knew they wouldn't let him fight at full power, so it wouldn't be much of a showdown. But he didn't look forward to the weak bruises that could be inflicted on his human form by a scrawny flesh and bone Shinigami-wannabe, anyway. Where was the honor in that?

Shoving on his shoes, he opened the door-and was instantly greeted by a blast of cold air. "Shit." It didn't chill him. But her...that dumb girl had only been wearing her uniform when she'd left, hadn't she? _Why do I gotta do everything now? I ain't no responsible type! _

With that, he'd made his way out and down the stairs.

_She'd better not have gone too far. Otherwise, she owes me for this. Like, I dunno...sardines. Lots and lots of them, in that sauce she whips up. Yeah, that'll be a good payment. And maybe a back rub._

It was only as he was making his way around the corner that he realized he was still holding that damn cat in his hand.

**…...**

The sun was just sinking under the horizon, as a cool breeze whipped among the trees and buildings. Stray leaves skipped across the sidewalks and roads, a faint metallic creaking drifting through the air.

Seated upon a swing at the local park, Orihime felt the toes of her shoes scuffing against the dirt, her gaze locked intently upon the photograph in her lap. It was getting dark, and quite chilly; if she stayed out too long, she was liable to catch a cold. She bit her lip.

How could she bring herself to go back, though? After that exit she'd made?

She wasn't angry at Grimmjow. Sure, he was hot-headed, and his words had hurt, but...he hadn't broken the picture on purpose. He'd just spoken that way because he didn't get where she was coming from. He didn't know how they'd grown up, or how she'd had to come face-to-face with her brother as none other than a Hollow. Maybe if he'd known, his thoughts would have, could have changed. Maybe. Wasn't it her job to educate him about things like this?

It wasn't like she couldn't fix the frame, either. Just a simple command, and her fairies would patch it up. No, it ran deeper than that. This pain...it wasn't from the destruction. It had a different center altogether.

She'd let things get out of control. She thought that it would be okay to push him aside, and hide behind another shroud. Big mistake there. She'd nearly wound up doing something she was certain she'd have regretted-striking out at him wouldn't have done any good. She still couldn't believe she'd actually gone so far as to yell at him. For all she knew, he was turning her place into another Los Noches. The thought should have frightened her, but not tonight. She was still trying to unstick the words in her heart, and get them not to tangle and choke in her throat.

"Oh, Sora...I must look so pathetic right now. What do I do?" The swing creaked once more.

It seemed almost impossible to consider, but the truth was, she did care for Grimmjow. She cared what happened to him. She cared about whether or not he was happy. And she cared about what he thought of her...even though she was pretty sure that by anyone else's standards, she really shouldn't have. Most people would have dismissed him as a bully, a waste of time and effort.

But for whatever reason, she couldn't. He may have been an enemy at one point, but things were different now. And no one else knew about the events they'd experienced specifically together, like how she'd given him back his arm, or how he'd saved her. She couldn't bring herself to share these things, simply because if she did, she'd have to share that lack of fear...that lack of a grudge. Her willingness to throw out a lifeline, and actually bother to get to know the man behind the mask. Or kitty, if you'd prefer. The thought made her giggle, just a little.

Even without his powers, he still could've killed her. Could've taken her out when she was at her weakest, like when she was tucked up tight in bed. He could've run, could've caused a good deal of mayhem.

Yet, he hadn't. He'd taken a step forwards, and made a go of living in this world on the other side of the spectrum. He'd bothered to put up with her, for all her quirks and odd habits. He'd allowed her to lead him, introduce him, guide him. He'd given her the time of day to show her that little part of the world she called her own. Was it because of what had happened before? Or was it something more?

"Hey! Woman!" That voice. Slicing through her thoughts like a knife, flawless in its strike. She looked up, eyes locking on the figure stomping across the park to where she sat. Even at this distance, she could make out that shock of blue hair. Her heart skipped. He couldn't have. Had he really...?

_D-did he come out here...just to bring me back?_ As cold as it was, she felt the color sneak into her cheeks, flushing them with a warmth that spread downwards, to her chest and past her spine. She tried not to look too surprised as Grimmjow finally stood before her, one hand now resting upon the frame of the swing set. He leaned over, only to hear an audible groan from the equipment. He blinked, removing his hand to instead shove it in his pocket. In the other was none other than the cat she'd gotten him last weekend. Again, her heart jumped hard.

"How did you f-find me?" Orihime did her best to keep her voice even, but she couldn't hide the stutter that crept in, her nerves betraying her calm outer shell. She looked away, hair falling forwards over her shoulder. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, before reaching out with his cat-holding hand to yank on the ends of her long locks. She let out a whine, and the toy fell into her lap. Forced to turn her gaze to meet his, she saw that he was now pointing at his nose.

"You smell. Like a fucking garden dipped in chocolate." He smirked at the bewildered expression that crossed her face then. He was a tracker, too? He leaned in close, lips still curled up teasingly.

"Duh. Reiatsu. I may be restrained, but I can still sense _some_thing, if I put my mind to it. I ain't completely useless. You were easy for me to find." He pulled back and, after a second of deliberation, sat in the empty swing beside her. Orihime was still trying to wrap her mind around all this. Had he tracked her by scent, or energy? Was she happy he'd come looking for her? And what did he mean by 'easy to find'?

Grimmjow was shaking his head. Truth be told, it had mostly been by Reiatsu that he'd found her. Her energy was more than familiar to him. But once he'd gotten close enough, that scent had enveloped him; the smell that belonged to her, and only her. He'd thought that his comment would've come off as a rough joke, but taking in the thoughtful look on her face, it obviously hadn't worked. He gave her a push, and she let out a squeak as the swing went forwards. She had to scramble to hold onto the objects in her lap.

"Lighten up, already. You ain't in Hueco Mundo anymore." He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was trained on the rapidly darkening sky above them. Although startled by the tone of the order, she followed his eyes, taking note of the few stars that glittered upon the skyline. Drawing in a breath, she allowed her nerves to relax, as they sat together in the silence.

Eventually though, the questions were too much for her to ignore. So, she shifted slightly, to look at him from her seat. He was still looking up. "Why?"

He let out a soft snort. Just like that time, too. She was full of questions. What could he say now? "Didn't know I had to have a reason. Unless you wanted to stay lost." Now, his blue eyes were staring into her grey ones. "It's your house. You really wanna leave it to me?" Even in the shadows, his teeth gleamed as he gave her a cocky grin. She had to smile, as well.

"Well...what about Grimmy Kitty?" He blinked. What was she on now? "Say that again?"

She held up the stuffed cat. "Grimmy Kitty. Why'd you bring him, too?" Grimmjow was sorely tempted to clap his hand over her mouth, if he couldn't find another suitable gag instead. Now she'd given it a name. A cutesy name, based off of his own. What part of 'bad-ass' did she not understand?

"I don't know. I was in a rush. You bought him, anyway. He should be in your damn room, not next to my pillow." Orihime was still smiling at hearing this; for all his appearances, he still kept the gift close to him. The gift _she'd_ gotten him. She didn't know if it was right for her to be so happy in his presence, but for once...she really couldn't have cared less. She enjoyed these feelings. That's all there was to it.

Gently, she placed the cat in his lap. "Here. He likes you better. I'm too girly for him." She giggled. Although he cast her a glance of irritation, he made no move to remove the plush toy from his space. "Whatever. You're fucking nuts, you know that? It's a bunch of cotton and thread and dye..." He couldn't believe that something as-as soft as this could honestly remind her of someone like him. Either her vision was wonky, or she was just that naïve.

Or possibly, just possibly, she was seeing something he didn't.

He looked down at the photo in her lap once more. Orihime felt a twinge of worry tug at her heart; was he going to go off again? Her hands reached up, to wrap around the chain links of the swing.

"How'd he die?" He was looking at her, no trace of smugness or sneer or even anger upon his features. It was an unreadable canvas, and it made her light-headed, seeing him like this. She swallowed hard. Should she answer?

"Well? I ain't gonna repeat myself." He didn't seem to notice that he was absentmindedly fiddling with the bell on the end of the toy's tail, as he continued staring. "You said I wouldn't understand? Try me. Gimme something to work with." It was almost like a challenge, and Orihime wasn't about to back down. She straightened up, not quite believing she was about to have this discussion with a former enemy. But then again, there were many things in life she couldn't believe. Like how big that hardware store had been. She'd had some fun trooping around with him up and down the aisles, though...

"Car accident. He was heading off t-to work." She had to pause before going on. "We'd...had a fight the day before, and I...I never told him goodbye..." Grimmjow said nothing, just watched her, taking in her words.

"H-he got confused, after he died...guess that's what I get for holding a grudge. So childish." She sniffled, holding back the tears once more. "He was a Hollow." At this, Grimmjow's eyes widened, but again he remained silent. That certainly wasn't a part of the story he'd been expecting. "It's not easy...living your life, when others didn't get to live theirs...when their life was you."

She was still gripping the chains tightly, and a gust of wind blew past, tangling in her long locks and sending them over her shoulders. Her face was smiling, but it wasn't a happy one. It was a mask, to hide the teardrops that threatened to spill over. The ex-Espada had to hand it to her, she was an expert at hiding the truth. Perhaps he hadn't been right after all when he'd said he couldn't picture her lying? So then, all those other smiles...where did they come from? He furrowed his brow.

_When we're together...it doesn't look like she's faking it. All that cheerful babbling nonsense-I drown in it._ He watched her brush the stray hairs behind her. So, did that mean, when she was with him...all that joy was for real? It wasn't a facade?

"But we made it through. He got his peace, and...and I got mine." She was staring at the sky again. "There are times though, when I...I can't help it, I feel...guilty. All he did for me, and I...in the end, I couldn't save him. He gave so much of himself, only to-to lose it all so soon." She shook her head. "I can only hope that I'm making him proud now, and-"

"Why?" Now he was asking the question. She looked at him. "Why what?"

"Why should you feel guilty? You didn't off him." He couldn't help it. He had to throw in his two cents. Silence didn't suit him very well, though he'd at least gone this long without interrupting. "You ain't his keeper, neither. His choices were his own, including after death. Honestly, putting that kinda weight on yourself? Pretty damn stupid, if you ask me."

He kicked at the ground with his foot. "And I ain't one for sap, but I think I can say for certain that if it bugs me to see you all fucking mopey like this, then it's gotta bug him, too. And I live for misery. You said you guys sorted it out, right? Then there's no reason for you to be pulling this guilt trip. He's fine."

Orihime was staring at him, not really sure what to make of his words. Was he...actually attempting to comfort her? Grimmjow stood up, still holding the cat in his hands. He was looking off towards the park entrance.

"If he's anything like you, then he's fine. So stop beating yourself up. You ain't supposed t'be that weak. Stand up, and get your shit done. No regrets. Then ya won't be looking back over your shoulder at the end of the day, thinking 'bout everything you didn't do." He scratched his head.

Grimmjow had no idea where all this had come from. He'd never bothered trying to give anyone advice before. Mostly, he couldn't care less. He was too busy putting the hurt on some unlucky bugger or three. But there was just something about her...if he had to make a choice between having her lit up like the sun, or as gloomy as a raincloud, he'd choose the former. At least he knew that when she was happy when she was with him, it was because of his presence. And he didn't even have to do anything special. He could cuss and yell and storm around all he wanted. She still stuck by him. He had to feel at least a little proud of that, right?

Plus, he liked the fire in her eyes. It wouldn't come out if she were sad. Not that he was going to go out of his way to make her laugh or anything like that. Maybe he might push her buttons in the future, though-in a way that didn't bring them down this path of self-loathing. He pondered this idea. He could always attempt to clean out the fridge-

"Grimmjow?" That caught his attention. No suffix. He turned around, watching her stand up with the photo clasped tightly in her hands, pressed to her chest. "Yeah?" He didn't know whether or not his words had been received well; for all he knew, she was about to go psycho on his ass with those hairpins of hers.

She gave him a smile. It wasn't sad. In fact, it was quite...bright. Filled with a different kind of fire. "Thank you." She brushed past him, her tiny hand grazing his own larger one. He felt that warmth upon his skin, as quick as the contact was. He followed her with his eyes, still not grasping exactly what she'd said. She was thankful? For him? Or his words?

Maybe both.

"Let's go home, huh? I have to return him to the shrine. And finish all my homework." She grinned nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Looks like I'm gonna be a night owl tonight, too. Want some company outside?" It took him a minute to come up with his answer.

"Feh. Do what you like. It's not my concern." He walked past her, returning the brush of hands. There was the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips, as he heard her shoes thump against the ground. She had jumped with joy, pumping her fist before going to catch up with him. "Okay! Sounds good to me!"

He looked down at the figure in step next to him, then at the stuffed toy in his hand. He turned it to the left, taking in the right side of its face. _Hmm...he might look better with a jawline, actually._ His smirk grew. Maybe he'd take her up on that idea of hers-though he sure as hell wasn't going to do it himself, much less procure the materials on his own. He'd seen those 'craft stores', and they were yet another place that went straight to his list of 'do not want'. Though Orihime would most likely find some way to sucker him into it...

His blue eyes darted across, to take in the bubbly figure beside him again, arms now swinging at her sides as she skipped in time with his steps. Only she could be capable of such an action. Only she could be so bold.

This was his life now. Shacked up with a Princess who was certifiably crazy. She'd gotten him hooked on her cooking, dragged him around like a pet on a leash, got him to jump after her more than once, and to top it all off had given him, of all things, a stuffed cat. Which had then been christened after him. Wonder-fucking-ful.

Grimmjow shook his head, looking ahead once more. _Eh. I can live with that._

**A/N: And that's it! The end of this madcap mini-series of misadventure! How was it?**

**Yes, I admit it: The relationship between Orihime and Sora really caught my interest. I was crying during that sequence. It was what moved me to fully become invested in 'Bleach'. As happy as the resolution was, I couldn't help imagining that when she's alone, just based on her personality...Orihime might feel a tiny speck of guilt, remembering the things that Sora had said in the midsts of his hunger. Although it wasn't her fault, she chides herself for not being able to predict or forsee such a thing. It's human nature: we try to stay in control, but life doesn't always work that way.**

**That's where my reasoning for this last installment came from. Orihime is both attempting to make up for the situation, while trying to move on...but that last thread still continues to linger. IDK. Is it a believable conclusion to come to? **

**Grimmjow, on the other hand...well, he has no idea as to her past. Nor does he know what her motives behind the prayers and devotions are based off of. It's not something he's used to: he's a fighter, where he deals w/death on a daily basis. But not the consequences. He's always the victor and destroyer. Now, he's on the other side, looking in. He sees it from the view of a victim. And it confounds him. **

**I'll be exploring this theme in a later oneshot on my second profile; if you like this story/the GrimmHime pairing, then please give it a read. :)**

**Anyways. As always, _all feedback is welcomed, loved, and appreciated_. Let me know if the characterizations worked, or failed. I tried my best to make it touching, while at the same time, taking into account the people we're dealing w/here. And while Grimmjow isn't one for providing comfort, if he's starting to feel something for 'Hime, well...this is how I saw it going. ^^;**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited and/or alerted this story. Your responses and commentary more than brightened my day. :D 'waves' See you later, and take care!**

**=^.^=**


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